


Turambar and Niniel's Courtship In Brethil

by capitainpistol



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Romance, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-06 10:10:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17343383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitainpistol/pseuds/capitainpistol
Summary: Turambar and Niniel come together one night out hunting in Brethil.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> for crocordile ;)

“Steady…”

Niniel didn’t know if she could get any steadier, not with him breathing down her neck, hands light on her hips. “I’m already still—“

“Shh.”

Suddenly, Turambar was on her left, behind her, and he had moved her slightly too. She waited a moment, let him get comfortable, and then she lifted her elbow and hit him hard.

Turambar hurt and laughed, for a moment, but his eyes were keen and they caught a brown thing moving in the brushes. So did Niniel. 

She aimed at it, and he moved like her shadow. Together they stood, silent, the forest holding its breath with them. They hadn’t eaten proper food in days. She felt her heart in her throat, or maybe that was Turambar, he was ever so close.

“There—“ Turambar said quietly. He moved her again, so fast that it impressed her more than it annoyed her. 

Niniel still had her pride. She shrugged him off. “I see it.”

“Here’s your chance.”

“I know. Your turn to be quiet, or do you want me to hit you again?”

Turambar held in his laughter. Any sound would alert the rabbit to their presence, but the ghost of his mirth reached her and made her smile, though he said nothing and could not see her face. 

Turambar guessed at her hesitation. The young of their company had trouble killing the few animals they saw and its big brown eyes glowed behind green leaves, innocent of its fate. 

“I know,” he said with patience he didn’t know he was capable of. “Some can’t shoo—“

Niniel let lose the notch. The arrow hissed swiftly and thudded.

Turambar shook his head and smiled, proud of her. He was suddenly aware that her neck was bare and that he had absently touched her shoulders. He quickly came around and said, instead of the gentler words he wanted, “Your form needs work.”

“Does it?”

“Perhaps you were a bowman?”

“Perhaps.” Niniel had stopped wondering about her life before her darkness. Ethel Brandir was her home, and Brandir her brother. And Turambar the greatest of her many, many friends.

Turambar picked up the rabbit, turning his back to her to remove the arrow.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said.

Turambar took a moment, but he turned to her with the broken arrow in one hand and the dead rabbit in the other. Both hands were bloody. “This might be a runaway from a homestead. It’s got meat on it. We should eat it now. Won’t be very good by the time we get back.”

Niniel looked at it, the blood dripping by his feet. “You can just say you’re hungry.”

Turambar smiled. “That too.”

They were farther from their horses than they realized, and they didn’t get back to their camp until sunset, putting their plans to head home to rest.

“Can you make fire yet?” asked Turambar.

“I’ve seen them do it.”

Turambar smashed two smooth rocks together against a mound of sticks he’d assembled from the earth at their feet. A large spark went up and the flame caught. 

“Like this.”

Niniel laughed, not realizing she had hugged herself in alarm.

Turambar looked at her and smiled, but he went on gathering longer sticks and leaves that had fallen off their nearby brushes. Niniel did the same, and when he blew on it and the fire took, she blew also.

“The blowing I remember,” said Niniel. “Not the smashing part.”

“It’s easier,” said Turambar.

“For you.”

“Anyone can do it. Beleg said anything Elves can do, Men can do, like Beren and Luthien.”

Niniel smiled. “I like that story.”

Turambar would have told her it was more than a story, but her smile softened his heart. He waited before speaking, wanting to be reason she kept smiling. 

“Beren did not eat animals. He spoke to them and they helped him. I suppose that would be odd, if this rabbit talked to us before we shot it.”

She laughed, and would have laughed more when Turambar’s face changed, for he thought she was mocking him, but she was not. 

“ _I_ shot it,” she said.

Turambar smiled, his eyes falling on her lips. He came close to her, but his heart beat the hardest it ever had in his life. He swallowed hard, and he said, “You cook it.” 

He rose quickly to the horses, and butt his head hard against the saddle, prompting the horse to neigh in discomfort.

Turambar made sure he helped with the cooking. He was rather good at it, having to learn when he was very young. He told her how he learned from Beleg and more of his time in the woods. How he was able to move so fast, and how he survived in the forest. The key was silence. Letting the elements be, learning to move within the trees not as a stranger, for the forest was alive and like Elf and Man, they had hurts and desires, wanting friends and smiting those that would hurt them.

“They are alive with the power of the Valar,” Turambar told Niniel. “Melian’s Girdle protects all of it, her thought.”

Niniel smiled, never hearing it spoken in such a way. “Brandir called them gods. The god of the forest is… Anna?”

“ _Ya _vanna,” said Turambar. “Doriath has better lorekeepers.”__

__“You know more than Brandir and Brandir knows everything.”_ _

__Turambar’s smile was small. “He would like you to think so.”_ _

__Turambar grabbed a long, thin stick and patted the ground next to the fire and pot. He dragged the edge of the stick on the dirt, and Niniel grinned, knowing them to be words._ _

__“Which one are you?” He asked._ _

__Niniel looked at the words he had written. Two of them. Very alike. The “N” she recognized as the beginning of both, but the others she could only guess._ _

__“That one,” she said, choosing the bottom one._ _

__Turambar was proud once more. “Now you can spell more than Brandir.”_ _

__“What does the top one say?”_ _

__“Nienor. My sisters name.”_ _

__He became solemn, and his smile sad, and he focused back to the iron pot and skinned rabbit sizzling inside of it. He had gathered herbs and other materials in the darkness surrounding their camp, sniffing and rubbing them between his fingers and throwing them into the food along with some of the ale in one of the leather pouches._ _

__“Did you learn to read in Menegroth?”_ _

__“No. My father taught me. My mother and father. My father more than my mother. She was impatient and he loved Elf lore.”_ _

__“And your sister?” Niniel was overcome with a desire to know of her, to know all about Turambar and what made him so quiet._ _

__“She was born long after I left for Menegroth.”_ _

__“Why did you leave Menegroth?” asked Niniel._ _

__Turambar had not intended to tell her so much, but he wanted to tell her everything. If only he had the gentleness or the grace._ _

__“I sought my kin,” said Turambar._ _

__Niniel could see it hurt him to speak of them, and it hurt her too, as if she felt with Turambar’s own heart, though she knew nothing before her darkness. “Did you find them?”_ _

__Anyone else’s pity would have angered him, but Turambar’s heart warmed at her kindness. And he wanted to kiss her, so he did._ _

__Hard. Too hard._ _

__His teeth nearly cracked hers, and they did not move at all._ _

__Turambar’s jaw clenched and he wanted to die then and there for his folly. He was a big brute, he thought. “I am sorry,” he said._ _

__Niniel licked her lips, soothing the harshness of his kiss._ _

__“I’ve lied to you," he said._ _

__“You did not seek your kin?”_ _

__“Always I’ve looked for them, from the moment I left Dor-lomin, my fathers lands. But in Menegroth there were… unkind people. People who did not want me there. I fought with one of them. Saeros was his name. And I… I made a mistake. He is dead now.”_ _

__Niniel was not afraid of Turambar, but others were and it surprised her, though she did not disbelieve it. “Did you kill him?_ _

__Turambar looked her in the eyes. “No. But his death is at my hands all the same. I was banished, and then pardoned.” At this he turned away from her, sighing some and admonishing himself. “I refused it.”_ _

__It would be beyond this night Turambar would tell Niniel everything, but for then Turambar stopped._ _

__“I am… unaccustomed to the company of women,” he said._ _

__Niniel grinned. If he knew how many turned their heads just to look at him, he would not believe it. Shyly, he looked at her again. He moved fast again, but she stayed him, hand on his chest, and he brushed his nose against hers, drawn to her. and they kissed softly, his lips trembling._ _

__Coming away, Turambar licked his lips. “I’ll serve.”_ _

__Niniel shook her head. And when he served the rabbit, she nearly swooned, it was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted. “You know how to cook, you’re good at lore. You make sure we don’t fall off a cliff somewhere.” She set down her plate, and watched as he covered half his face with the iron pot to his mouth. “It’s unfortunate you smell.”_ _

__Turambar had eaten his portion in a fast breath. “I smell?”_ _

__“Most times. You do know there are rivers everywhere.”_ _

__“There are.” The tendrils of the Teiglin were the closest._ _

__“Well.”_ _

__Turambar lead them away from the horses, nearer and nearer to the sound of water. He led her through a line of trees onto a quiet ravine riding the moons soft tide. She turned around and caught him sniffing himself._ _

__“I smell like the wood,” he insisted._ _

__“You do not,” she said, already taking off her clothes._ _

__Turambar quickly turned his back to her. “Must you do that?”_ _

__“Do what?”_ _

__“Your clothes. You need to wear clothes, Niniel.”_ _

__“For a late night swim?”_ _

__“For always.”_ _

__“Always?”_ _

__Turambar did not want to bring it up. “There have been… some sightings. In the village. It’s… distracting.”_ _

__He heard her stepping into the water._ _

__She yelped. “It’s cold.”_ _

__“You’ll catch a fever again.”_ _

__“Then come and stop me.”_ _

__Turambar faced the water, catching a glimpse of her naked breasts before she submerged and came up again, hair drawn back by the water._ _

__He kept his breeches, coming in and groaning as he dunk right in to get it over with. Niniel came to him fast, and spun around him, paying no mind to her nakedness until he had her in his grip, his chest pressed to hers._ _

__“Women aren’t… usually so tall.”_ _

__Niniel smiled, pressing against the bulge between his legs. “Aren’t they?”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__“Have you known many women?”_ _

__Turambar’s grasp tightened on her thigh, lifting her easily. “No.”_ _

__“I am angry,” she said with a smile._ _

__“Why?”_ _

__“Because you are so sweet,” she said, cursing his breeches keeping her from him._ _

__Niniel kissed him, and he opened his mouth and kissed her back, careful at first, as if she were fragile, but then with eagerness._ _

__Then a hard rain began to fall, and though they both reached between them to free Turambar of his modesty, the lightning finally broke them apart. They rushed out of the water, delighted and utterly frustrated, kissing under the canopy of the trees, Niniel going naked like when he found her. Turambar watched her go ahead, the only light in the darkness in front of him._ _

__At the horses, Turambar touched her back from her neck down her spine to her curves. Bringing her to him, he kissed her long and deep._ _

__The rain beat down over them the entire way, keeping their horses apart as they tried to find paths under the canopies, but speaking was not needed. They looked at one another all the way to Ethil Brandir, smiling and wanting, paying no mind to the thunderous battle happening above their heads._ _

__Turambar meant to say goodnight to Niniel at her keep, but she pulled him in and removed his cloak and lifted his shirt off above his head. They dropped in a thud on the floor. Her hands went to the knot of his breeches, to undo them, but Turambar stopped her._ _

__“This isn’t—“_ _

__“—steady,” smiled Niniel against his neck._ _

__Turambar kissed her softly, wanting to grab her as he did in the water, but they were not in the water. He caressed her face, combed back her hair and held her back. “I cannot.”_ _

__“I want to,” she said, though he was right. She wasn’t fully sure what they were about to do._ _

__“What if you have a husband somewhere? Or an oath of… chastity?”_ _

__Niniel laughed. “Oath of chastity?”_ _

__“It isn’t… manly of me to… to.”_ _

__Niniel held onto him. “You’re going to have to pry me off.”_ _

__Turambar took the challenge, and she laughed, the sweet sound drowned by the roar outside._ _

__“You are a cheat and an outlaw, that is what you are,” he said, falling on top of her on her bed. He turned them to let her over him. She kept only her dress, one of the sleeves falling off her shoulder_ _

__“And you are my captive,” Niniel said, undoing the knots and releasing him. “Long have I searched for you.”_ _

__He came up to help her, for in truth he was witless, having never truly known a woman, and he guided himself inside of her with her help, her hand warm and firm, and when he entered her, he soothed her cries and kissed her neck as he’d wanted to earlier during the hunt. Everything he’d dreamed and longed for and wanted, it was in Niniel’s arms he found it._ _

__He woke first, arms wrapped around Niniel, her body fitting perfectly against his. He kissed the back of her neck and smelled the rain and the river in her golden hair._ _

__Across the way, in the hearth of the square, sat Dorlas and Hunthor and the rest of his company, eating porridge and bacon and drinking ale before the morning scouting. All of them looked right at Turambar when he left Niniel’s keep, smiles spreading across their faces, for Turambar carried his shirt in his hand and he could not help but smile too._ _

__“Don’t,” said Turambar as he crossed them._ _

__The men started hooting._ _

__“I am your commander. I command you stop this.”_ _

__But they didn’t, and they hooted so loud and with such merriment that the whole village thrived on it for the rest of the day._ _

__The rumor of Turambar and Niniel spread much like the other rumors of Niniel, curiously and without much fuss. Niniel, in the kindness of her darkness, took many to the keep given to her, and slept in others as well. They loved her dearly; glad to know at least Morgoth did not touch her. As for Turambar, no one said a word lest his wrath should fall on them._ _

__That is how it was upon the feast of the new harvest, when Niniel sat at Turambar’s right and they spoke to each other in whispers, their love and comfort known to all. And they were glad, for it was Niniel’s gentleness that calmed Turambar and made him laugh and smile more than he ever did in their presence._ _

__Brandir, who sat to Turambar’s left, watched Niniel wander through the feast. And he turned to Turambar. “What are your intentions?”_ _

__Turambar would have frowned, but his eyes were for Niniel and he was calm. “Intentions?”_ _

__“You are becoming close.”_ _

__Turambar smiled. “You may say so.”_ _

__“She is innocent.”_ _

__Turambar agreed, though she was not innocent, he thought, in the way Brandir meant. She was fierce, in the wild and in the dark, and she loved freely with her hands and her mouth and her body yielded to his with delight the likes of which he did not know was possible._ _

__“Turambar?_ _

__Turambar blinked. His mind had wandered to his nights, once ridden with nightmares now come alive with the sweetest dream. “What?”_ _

__“I said Niniel is innocent and then you said nothing.”_ _

__“She knows more than you give her credit for,” said Turambar, rising._ _

__“Does she know of the orc attacks getting nearer to our borders? Does she know you go willingly to death? Do you wish our Niniel to be widowed if you marry her?”_ _

__Turambar shook his head and said nothing, meaning to speak with Niniel, but the horn was sounded, and he and Brandir shared a look. And so Niniel held him harder in the dark, when the attacks became more frequent._ _

__“Are you not afraid?” She asked him once, pressing her head against the back of his neck._ _

__“Of orcs?” He laughed, but she did not._ _

__She held him closer and tighter. “Of dying.”_ _

__“I fear it now,” he said truthfully, turning to her. “I fear that one day I will return and you will not be here, and I wander forever searching for you, as I have searched forever for my kin. That is why I promise you. I will return. I cannot stand the thought of you waiting for me here. I will return. Every time.”_ _


	2. Chapter 2

Turambar returned sweaty and spent. He shrugged off his boots and let his armor, mail and shirt fall where it landed, walking to the basin of water Niniel had left out for him. She’d left the candles on, too, and he extinguished them with the tip of his fingers, leaning over the basin in the dim light that was left. A splash across his face and his neck was sufficient.

Niniel pretended to sleep, watching him barely try to clean himself. He was all muscle, strong and well built, but lean, too. He was forgetting to eat while out _hunting_. 

Turambar turned and she shut her eyes, feeling his steps and smelling him coming, familiar and rank. Blood, dirt and sweat came together in the heat of his skin. He chuckled when she crunched up her nose, and then he kissed her nose, and then her cheek, combing her golden hair aside to caress her naked back and kiss her shoulder.

Niniel smiled as all of her shivered, and she opened her eyes.

She had fallen asleep with questions she meant to have answered, but he smiled softly and his face, unlike the rest of him, was clean, his dark hair held back tight, bringing the shadows to bear on his face in a way that took her breath away. He was beautiful, and he was hers.

Niniel drew him to her, and he obliged, but knowing he was not presentable to his lady, he kept himself planked above her, hands in fists on either side of her. His breeches he hadn’t completely removed, but they were unknotted and loose. Turambar kissed her forehead, coming closer between her legs and entering her, finding her ready. She widened her legs for him and his strength sustained his rhythm, his muscles taut and tight and contracting as he moved inside of her. First she wondered if he would tire, but her pleasure took over, and she shut her eyes, uncaring for all except his vigor and knowing only if he stopped she would kill him. He did not stop. He went faster, smoother, his skin hot, and he spilled inside of her with a great roar from deep within him.

She caressed the length of his arms and felt his heart in the veins, his strength holding as he lowered himself to take a nipple in his mouth. He lifted his face, the sweat dripping off his nose and chin and down his neck, his chest heaving and gleaming. He laughed, exhausted and shaking his head. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he let out when he caught his breath.

Her smile came and went, for she could not forget why she left all those candles burning, waiting for him. He read her thoughts as though she spoke them aloud, but they were overcome with desire for one another, a desire burdened with the passing of time, fast and fleeting.

Niniel caressed his neck with both her hands, and at her touch he stretched and cracked his bones, coming back to meet her eyes again. Locked between her legs, he laughed when she didn’t let him ago, and he braced himself and let out another roar to drive away exhaustion, and they loved again until sleep overtook them.

Niniel could only keep Turambar so long, and soon he was off again. Brandir would not let her forget Turambar was doing more than hunting, but she came to him searching for other answers. 

Brandir blinked in surprise. “Pregnant?”

“Yes. How do you know? The wives have told me that making love makes children, but I do not know exactly how. If that is so, I should be pregnant. Turambar and I Iay together all the time. Everywhere. As much as we can.”

Brandir did not say a word for a long moment, but he nodded gravely, and reading his face, Niniel knew she had hurt him, so she said nothing else. 

“Do you think a child will tame Turambar?” Brandir asked her.

Niniel took the question kindly, without the veil of condemnation for war-like Turambar. “I just want to know,” she said, “Every time he goes out, I pretend I am unafraid. That he will return to me, as he promised, but my darkness forebodes darkness. I fear nothing, but I fear nothingness more. And if he is gone from me, what will there be but nothingness. And if I have a child…”

He did not answer her, for in his heart he could not speak for Turambar. He said instead, “Have you had your blood?”

Niniel nodded.

“If you are pregnant your moon’s blood will stop. And if you do not wish to get pregnant, make sure.... make sure Turambar… he must spend himself outside of you.”

Niniel for the first time felt embarrassment. “Oh.”

“Yes,” Brandir said quickly.

A villager entered Brandir’s keep, screaming and crying with an ill gotten hurt, and Brandir thanked the Valar. 

Niniel left Brandir with more questions. More questions for him, and more for Turambar, and more for the wives too, who did not tell her the full truth of how babies were made. Niniel touched her flat stomach, wondering what it would be like to be pregnant with Turambar’s child, and it brought a tender smile to her face.

“Niniel!” 

Turambar rushed to her without stopping, taking her hand and pulling her into the forest before she could answer.

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“It has come to my attention that I have done things backwards,” said Turambar merrily.

“I’m not pregnant.”

At that he stopped, shocked. “Pregnant?”

“I was just checking. I’m not. So if you’re doing things backwards, you’re not on course.”

Turambar smiled at her. “You’re not…”

“No,” she said, smiling, and the light in his eyes brightened. 

Turambar took her hand again, kissed it and moved right along. “This way.”

They came to great tree, one that seemed to look at them with old, ancient eyes. At the base of the tree was a small pool of sap where a bowl of water and flowers petals waited in a nook like a nest. Turambar placed Niniel and himself in front of the tree.

“Here in Brethil, there are no wedding rituals like for the Edain or the Eldar,” said Turambar. “No oaths, or swearing of fealty. There is merely statement. I way to declare yourself to your home, or to your friends, or to Arda herself.” He took the bowl and drank from it and extended it to her. “They say that drinking from the greatest of the trees makes you part of it, and if you share it, then whosoever drinks becomes a part of it too. And even if you fade, the tree will grow and grow and grow and reach the Seven Stars one day, when all is ended, and all grief is over. I hope one day, Niniel, that your darkness will leave you, as it left me, and that it will pass and fall up into the Arms of Varda. I hope one day you will know all, and be content.”

Niniel drank, and inside of her she felt her body stirring. “Whatever passed before my darkness, it is over. I am with you now.”

**The End**


End file.
